


Need

by AlleyMarie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:58:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3542006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyMarie/pseuds/AlleyMarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-war AU with no Teddy or Tonks. During the Battle of Hogwarts, Remus and Severus manage to beat the odds and survive. They are brought together by need and circumstance, but sometimes second chances are not what they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was perplexing, the realization that he was still alive. Remus staggered through the ravaged Hogwarts grounds, taking in the devastation: the demolished façades, the cries of pain from the wounded, the stench of death that permeated the place. He imagined that he, too, reeked of death: that by traveling to the brink of death—perhaps beyond—and inexplicably returning, he had brought back with him something that lingered on his skin and clothes, something foul, something others could sense … could smell.

His steps took him inexorably away from the castle, down a winding, deserted road.

He had no explanation as to why or how he had survived the Unforgivable curse. Maybe it had to do with his Lycanthropy—maybe his lifelong curse had also been his salvation. But that still didn’t explain why. Why him; why not one of the dead children or anyone more worthy than him?

Remus was surprised to find himself in front of the Shrieking Shack. Had he really travelled this far or was he just dreaming? He felt tired in body and soul. He needed a place to rest: somewhere quiet, somewhere dark, somewhere he could be alone, somewhere safe. Others couldn’t enter the shack from the outside, but Remus knew a way. After all, the shack had been built for him—it was his place.

Once inside, Remus found a familiar corner, pressed his back against the wall and was about to slide down onto the dusty floor when a noise caught his attention. He reached for his wand and listened. Maybe he wasn’t alone. Maybe it wasn’t safe here. Maybe he would still die this day.

But nothing happened. There was only silence and darkness.

“ _Lumos_!” Soft light flooded the room, and Remus looked around. At first he saw nothing. Then—there, a few feet away and straight ahead of him was an indistinct form on the floor. Remus crept towards it.

“Severus!” he whispered when he was standing above the inert form.

Remus dropped to one knee and studied Severus’ face by the dim light of his wand. The man was unconscious; his normally sallow skin was even paler, his lips pasty, and his eyes looked sunken, the sockets hollow. Something wet soaked through Remus’ robes beneath his knee. He looked down and realized, with a sinking horror, that it was blood: Severus’ blood.

Severus had to be dead—no one could survive such a profuse loss of blood or the gaping gash that Remus now saw on Severus’ shoulder. But Remus had heard … something, he was sure of it. He leaned closer until his cheek was just over Severus’ lips and he could look down the man’s torso. It was tenuous, but it was there: a wisp of breath, a slight rise and fall of the chest, a flicker of life. Remus’ eyes darted around the room as if hidden in one of its many dark corners lay the answer to what he should do next. His first instinct was to race back to the castle for help.

And then what? Severus was a murderer, a traitor … Was it worth it to save a man’s life so he could spend it in Azkaban? In Severus’ case it would be a cruel kind of justice, but Remus was not a cruel man. Besides, he wasn’t certain the others would even care; perhaps they would think it best to just let Severus die, and maybe they were right. Only one thing nagged at the back of Remus’ mind—Sirius Black. His friend had been assumed guilty and sent to Azkaban without a trial when he had been innocent all along. Was it possible that Severus, too, was innocent despite what Harry had said he saw? The chance was slim, but it would be a travesty that Remus couldn’t allow to happen again. First, he would do all he could to save Severus, and if he survived, then he would get the truth from him if he had to hex him a hundred times over to do it.

His decision made, Remus stood. Others would no doubt come to the shack looking for bodies, fugitives, or both, and Severus’ condition was too precarious for him to be moved across a long distance. Remus’ only choice was to move Severus to one of the uppermost rooms in the building, where others would be least likely to look, cast Disillusionment Charms on himself and Severus, and hope that it was enough. Judging by Severus’ condition, it was unlikely that he would live to see the sun set, anyway.

* * *

Remus had placed Severus on a bed in a tiny, upper floor bedroom of the shack and was in the process of using all his limited skills in healing charms to try to heal his wounds when he heard the sound of footsteps and muffled voices. He glanced down at the unconscious man on the bed. Severus hadn’t moved or made a sound since he had found him, and Remus prayed that the man remained consistent. Remus concentrated hard on casting the strongest Disillusionment Charm he could muster and then stood still while listening to the sounds outside the room.

He recognized Harry’s voice.

“I’m telling you, he was right here,” Harry said.

“And you’re sure he was dead?” someone asked.

“Of course I’m sure! Ask Ron and Hermione if you don’t believe me; they saw him, too.”

 _Ah, Harry. Always so adamant and often so wrong_ , Remus thought.

Remus heard footsteps approach and held his breath. The door to the bedroom opened, and an old wizard with grey hair and a beard stuck his head in and looked around. After a moment, he stepped away and closed the door again, but Remus didn’t release his breath until he heard the footsteps fade away.

“Well, there’s no one here now,” a man’s voice said. Remus heard more shuffling and murmurs before the place was again engulfed in silence. They were gone, and Remus doubted they would return. Remus had done all he could. He grabbed a blanket and lay on the floor next to the bed to try to get some sleep—he doubted Severus would still be alive when he awoke.

* * *

Severus awoke from a fitful sleep plagued by nightmares about the Dark Lord and rivers of blood. It took him a moment to realize where he was and remember what had happened. The room was dark, but he was almost certain that he was still at the Shrieking Shack, judging by the smell of dust and the lumpiness of the mattress under him. He remembered the Dark Lord’s voice and the feel of Nagini’s fangs sinking into his flesh. He also remembered looking into Harry’s eyes as the life drained out of him.

It was perplexing, the realization that he was still alive and lying on a bed. Severus sat up. His fingers reached tentatively to feel the wound that should be just above his left shoulder. It was there, jagged and rough but mostly healed. His limbs were intact, as was the rest of him as far as he could tell. Severus felt fine—better than fine, in fact. Except for a nagging hollowness in the pit of his stomach, Severus felt better than he had in years.

Was he really alive? Maybe he was dreaming or this was what death felt like. A noise caught his attention, and Severus instinctively reached for his wand before he realized it was gone. He wasn’t alone as he had first thought. And he was unarmed. Maybe, if he wasn’t dead, Severus would die this day, after all.

He waited in the darkness, listening for a clue as to what he should do next. The noise came again. It sounded like … a soft snore and came from the floor. Severus leaned over the side of the bed, and his eyes strained to focus on the indistinct form below. At first it was difficult, but after a moment his vision cleared as if a blindfold had been removed from over his eyes. It was still dark, but every shape and line in the room seemed to come alive in stark relief against a shadowed background, and Severus knew that he was looking at a sleeping man. A tuft of light-brown but mostly grey hair was visible above the blanket. Recognition dawned, and Severus felt an anger rise in him that he could neither suppress nor deny. He darted from the bed and landed with his boots firmly planted on the floor.

Remus jumped, he blinked a few times, and his hand reached for his wand.

“Don’t,” Severus warned. It was an empty threat since he didn’t have a wand, but Remus couldn’t see him so he wouldn’t know that. The thought fleeted crossed Severus’ mind that if the room was dark enough that Remus couldn’t see him, he shouldn’t be able to see Remus either. Yet, he could. Severus shoved the puzzling thought aside.

Remus’ hand hovered above his wand. “Severus, I’m not going to do anything; I just want to see you,” he said.

“What are you doing here, Lupin? What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story. Just let me grab my wand, and I will tell you.”

“You will tell me now, or I shall kill you.”

Something clicked in Remus’ eyes, a sudden realization. Before Severus could take action, Remus had the wand in his hand, and Severus found himself flying across the room and landed hard against a wall. Remus was on him in an instant, his nervous fingers touching Severus’ ribs and neck while he held a lit wand in the other hand. Severus raised his hand to push him away, but thought better of it when he considered the wand.

“Don’t move. Let me see if …” Remus started to say, and his voice held a hint of authority that only served to infuriate Severus more.

“ _Don’t_ touch me,” Severus said.

“Don’t be so bloody obstinate. I’m just trying to see if you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” Severus hissed through gritted teeth and was surprised to realize that he was, in fact, fine. The force of the impact against the wall should have been enough to at least knock the air out of him, but Severus felt no discomfort, not even a hint of pain.

“Get off me, you lascivious brute!” Severus said, pushing Remus’ hands away.

Remus took several steps back, but kept a tight grip on his wand.

Severus’ eyes darted around the room. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“It’s a long story. Let me help you back to the bed.”

“I don’t require your assistance. I just want to know why you’re here. Are we prisoners?”

Remus seemed surprised by the question. “Prisoners? No. Why would you think that?”

“We are together, alone, in a room with the door shut. Surely someone is keeping us here …” Severus’ eyes travelled to the wand Remus held. “Am I _your_ prisoner?”

“Severus, no one is anybody’s prisoner. Please, just lie back down. You can’t be well.”

“But I am well. And if I’m, indeed, not your prisoner, then I shall take my leave.” Severus started for the door, careful not to turn his back to Remus.

Remus seemed frazzled, perhaps even panicked, when he stepped between Severus and the door. He muttered something, and Severus heard the door seal with an odd, squelching noise.

“ _Colloportus_? I thought I wasn’t a prisoner.”

“You’re not, but you can’t leave. Not yet. Besides, where will you go?”

“Back to the Dark Lord, of course,” Severus said. It was a lie. The Dark Lord had tried to kill him and almost succeeded, but Remus couldn’t know that, and Severus needed to maintain his cover, at least until he could get his memories back from Potter. He would figure out what to do next after that.

“The Dark Lord is dead,” Remus said.

It took a moment for the news to sink into Severus’ mind, and when it did, it was as if a giant stone had been lifted off his back. The relief was momentary. Severus felt lightheaded, and the room began to spin around him. “I need to …” he said.

Remus had an arm around him. “You need to lie down like I told you. I’m surprised you’ve managed to stand for this long.”

Remus guided him towards the bed, and Severus found himself quite unable to offer any resistance. There was a roaring in his ears and a pounding inside his head like the beating of a giant heart. The hollowness in his belly grew until his entire body felt like a hollow shell filled only with the steady cadence of that heartbeat.

“I need …” he tried to say again. But Severus didn’t know what he needed.

He allowed Remus to help him onto the bed and push him gently back against the pillow. Severus squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn’t make the throbbing emptiness inside him go away.


	2. Chapter 2

Remus didn’t know what to make of the situation. Severus shouldn’t be alive, let alone able to stand and argue with him. His wound had been severe and the blood loss massive. Remus’ skills in healing spells were adequate at best. Yet, Severus appeared to have experienced a miraculous recovery despite his current weakened state.

“Severus, can you hear me?” Remus asked.

Severus nodded.

“Are you in pain?” It seemed like a reasonable question to Remus.

“No!” Severus spat.

The man was impossible, and Remus was tempted to run to the castle and get the others—let them deal with him. Only the concern that Severus would be thrown into Azkaban without a trial stopped him.

“Severus, you have to tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.”

“I need …” Severus said again.

“You need what?”

Severus’ eyes flew open and Remus jumped back. From a gaunt and pale face, a pair of black eyes, their irises rimmed with red, stared back at him. The significance of the red rims around the irises barely had time to register before Severus launched himself at Remus, teeth bared, sharp incisors practically gleaming in the dim light. Remus pointed his wand, and this time he didn’t hold back. The hex shot from the tip of the wand and hit Severus square in the chest, sending his body into a somersault and landing him flat on the bed.

“Don’t move,” Remus warned. But Severus was already off the bed and moving toward him.

Remus pointed his wand away from Severus, toward the small window high on the wall, and one of the planks of wood that blocked the light from outside went flying. A ray of sunlight pierced the room, and Severus screamed. He retreated into a corner, cradling his arm, his eyes wide and wild.

“Stay there—and don’t move,” Remus instructed.

Remus Levitated the blanket from the bed and dropped it on a protruding nail above the window to cover the opening. The room was once again dark except for the glow of Remus’ wand. He approached Severus slowly, trying to keep his breathing even and not make a fuss—he knew Severus would make enough of that.

* * *

Severus cowered into a corner. His arm hurt. Intense, bone-deep pain like he hadn’t experienced since the moment when Nagini’s fangs sank into his flesh. The little ray of sunlight had sliced through his skin like a branding iron. He cradled his arm and all the while tried to solve the riddle of what was happening to him: his miraculous survival, his newfound strength and agility, the hollowness in his gut that he now recognized as hunger, the sensitivity to sunlight … It all pointed to only one possible explanation, as improbable as it might be.

He glanced at the wizard standing across the room, wand held firmly in his grasp. Remus knew—Severus could see it in his eyes that watched him with wariness and something akin to pity.

“What did you do to me?” Severus hissed through clenched teeth.

“Not what you’re thinking,” Remus said. “I found you downstairs, barely alive and in a pool of your own blood. I brought you up here, performed a few healing charms, cast a Disillusionment Charm when others came looking for you … I thought I was saving your life. It appears my efforts were—unnecessary.”

Oddly enough, Severus believed him. As much as he distrusted him, Remus was a werewolf: he wouldn’t have the ability or even the knowledge necessary to create a vampire. Nagini was the most likely culprit. The transformation had to have been caused by something in the serpent’s venom. It was befitting of the Dark Lord’s perverse nature to want to impart a fate worse than death to his enemies. Besides, why kill them when you could turn them into Dark creatures and thus make them your allies? A part of Severus would have admired the depraved ingenuity inherent in the concept—if only he hadn’t been the victim.

“Let me look at your arm,” he heard Remus say.

Severus held the arm tighter against his body, as if protecting it from the man who extended his hand in offering.

“Get away from me,” Severus spat.

Remus lowered his hand, but his eyes never left Severus. “Severus, I don’t know what could have caused this. Do you?”

“I have an idea,” Severus said, avoiding Remus’ eyes. It felt like the room was closing in on him. The hunger still gnawed at his entrails, less urgent because Severus was now more aware and better able to control it, but still there, and its throbbing was nearly deafening. Worse, he could now smell Remus.

Ever since their school days, after his encounter with the werewolf in this very shack, Severus had imagined that he could scent a certain wildness on Remus that others couldn’t, a repulsive stench that only he could smell. But this was different. The smell emanating from Remus was wild, yes, but also rich, warm, and alluring—the scent of vital blood—it was intoxicating, and Severus felt his self-control begin to slip.

“I have to leave here,” he said.

Remus moved to block the door. “I can’t let you. You’re dangerous right now, and there is … the other matter.”

The words came as if from a great distance, and Severus could scarcely make sense of them. _What other matter_? he thought. “Get out of my way,” he demanded.

“No!”

Severus fixed his eyes on Remus’ wand. He knew he could overpower Remus physically, possibly withstand a hex or two in the process if he had to, but it would mean moving closer to the wizard, putting his hands on him … holding him firmly in his grasp … feeling the other’s skin yield under his fingers … sinking his fangs into him … Severus shook his head, as if by doing so he could shake away the thoughts.

“I—need—to— feed.” The admission was painful to Severus, more so than the burn that was already healing on his arm, or the emptiness inside him that grew with each beat of Remus’ heart: it was a disgusting and humiliating acknowledgment.

“Which is precisely one of the reasons why I can’t let you leave this room. Be reasonable, Severus. If you promise to control yourself, I could give you … I could let you …”

Remus glanced down at his arm, and Severus hoped that Remus wasn’t insinuating what he thought he was.

“You are offering to let me feed from you?”

“Only a bit. Just enough to hold you over until... I can think of something else,” Remus hastened to explain.

It was tempting to be able to taste that smell, to feel its warm richness flow over his tongue and sooth the ache inside him. It was also tempting to tell Remus to fuck off, that Severus Snape didn’t need any favors, especially not from someone like him. In the end, his survival instinct won out. Remus moved toward him, and Severus stood taller and straightened his robes.

“Needs must, and if you’re willing …” he said with as much dignity as he could muster.

* * *

Willing was not the word Remus would have used. A dozen different scenarios in which this idea could go wrong flashed through his mind. He knew enough about Dark Arts to know that vampires, especially new vampires, were unpredictable. They were also amazingly fast-moving creatures: if he wasn’t careful, Severus could have him on the floor and drained of blood before Remus realized it. That the vampire in question was Severus Snape made the proposition doubly dangerous in Remus’ eyes. But Severus was starving; Remus could see it. If Severus didn’t feed, and soon, he was likely to attack Remus again, and this time, Remus knew it would be a fight to the death. If Remus went to find blood and left Severus alone in his present condition, Severus was liable to tear himself apart trying to feed off his own body, and Remus knew only too well what that was like. Remus wasn’t willing; he was merely out of options.

He rolled up the sleeve of his robes and presented his arm to Severus. He raised his other arm and held the wand aimed straight at Severus’ chest. “Only a bit. I say when,” he instructed.

Severus quirked an eyebrow at the wand.

“The wand stays,” said Remus.

He watched Severus’ head lower and felt the silky strands of black hair brush against his skin. He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and instead braced himself for the pain by planting his feet firmly on the floor and tightening his grip on his wand.

The pain was searing for an instant—it lanced up Remus’ arm and to his neck, making the muscles contract and shudder along the way—but it was quickly replaced by another more pleasant if not less intense sensation. It started with a jolt, like an electric current that travelled through Remus’ body and pooled in his groin. His cock went rock hard. He tried to tell Severus to stop, but only managed a gasp.

“S— St—o—Stop,” he finally managed to say.

When had he closed his eyes? Remus didn’t know. But they flew open when he heard the sound of his wand hitting the floor. He was surprised to see Severus leaning against the wall, his head thrown back, his eyelids shut tight. Remus quickly retrieved the wand and managed to regain his composure before Severus opened his eyes.

“I need more,” Severus said.

The red rims around his irises were gone, but there was a gleam to his black eyes that Remus was certain he had never seen before.

“I know,” Remus said and was struck by how unaffected his voice sounded when the rest of him was quaking with suppressed desire and awe. “I’m going to go out for a while,” he said.

Remus headed for the door. On his way out, he pointed his wand over his shoulder and whispered a charm that secured the planks of wood covering the window. Not even someone with the strength of a vampire would be able to pry those off. “I’m going to seal the door. I won’t be gone long,” he said before he closed the door behind him without a backward glance.


	3. Chapter 3

It was an hour later when Remus returned to the shack. The errands had taken him only twenty minutes; the rest of the time he had spent thinking about Severus. As a vampire, many aspects of Severus’ life would be regulated by the Ministry of Magic—that wouldn’t sit well with the secretive and cantankerous wizard. And while Remus knew of a few vampires who led productive lives within the Wizarding community, those were the exception—vampires were considered Dark creatures, feared and hated by most. The opportunity for a fair trial for Severus seemed even more distant now. Whatever the future held for him, Remus knew from experience it wouldn’t be easy. Remus was willing to help; he owed Severus at least that much, considering how little he had done for him when they were schoolmates. But first he had to find out if Severus was a traitor.

In front of the bedroom door, Remus shifted the package he held in one arm in order to retrieve his wand. The package brushed against the fresh wound on his arm, and along with the slight discomfort, Remus felt a tingle of excitement travel through his body. Remus wasn’t certain if his reaction to Severus’ bite had been normal. Perhaps he should have stopped at a library and done some reading on the topic, but he hadn't thought of it. It was something he certainly had to look into at the nearest opportunity.

When he lifted the charm and entered the room, he found Severus pacing and agitated. The sun had set completely, and if Severus felt anything like Remus did when close to the full moon, the night would be calling to him. It wasn’t just about satisfying hunger; instinct could have a strong pull on a being, Remus knew.

“I brought you some blood,” Remus said.

Severus paused, and his eyes shot daggers at him.

Remus ignored his expression and handed him a large jar filled with dark liquid. “It’s pig’s blood. I got it cheap from a butcher in Hogsmeade.”

Severus raised an eyebrow and tilted his head.

“I only had a few coins in my robes,” Remus explained. He sat on the bed and retrieved a piece of bread from the bag.

Severus studied the jar as if he suspected it was filled with a dangerous poison. He finally opened it, tasted the contents and winced.

“Are you going to sit there and watch, wolf?” he shot at Remus, looking at him from the corner of his eye.

Remus focused his attention on the piece of bread in his hand, but not before he smiled his encouragement to Severus. The sight of blood had never really bothered him, and he didn’t care what Severus ate, or in this case drank, so long as it wasn’t a human being. Severus drank the blood in one gulp and slammed the jar down on the nightstand with practically enough force to shatter it.

“You must be relishing this, beast,” he said.

“It has a certain irony to it,” Remus admitted with a mischievous smile. “And technically, werewolves are beings, not beasts, according to the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. So are vampires.”

Severus scoffed. “Regulation and control,” he said bitterly.

Remus popped the last piece of bread into his mouth and wiped the crumbs from his robes. Then he grew serious.

“Severus, we have to talk.” Remus was already reaching for his wand, expecting a confrontation.

Severus had resumed his pacing. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“You have some explaining to do,” Remus said.

“There’s nothing to explain. When the Dark Lord thought I had become an obstacle in his path, he saw fit to dispose of me and used Nagini to do it. Something in the snake’s venom must have caused the Vampirism.”

Remus found Severus’ revelation interesting, but it was not what he wanted to discuss. “We need to talk about … Dumbledore.”

Severus stopped pacing and whirled around to face Remus, his face drained of all expression.

“I need to know if you killed him,” Remus continued.

“I did,” Severus said simply.

Remus was stunned. A part of him had hoped that Severus was innocent, although he would have been unable to explain why he should care either way. He had also expected an initial denial at the very least. Severus’ bluntness left him with few options.

“Why?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” Severus asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

No, it didn’t matter, Remus decided, and he felt an ire rise inside him that he found hard to control. Severus’ expression was neutral, and his tone held no hint of remorse.

“Then you must understand that I have no choice but to turn you over to the others,” he ground out.

“Do what you must,” Severus said and turned toward the door.

* * *

Severus offered no resistance when Remus trained the wand at his back and informed him that they would take the underground tunnel back to the castle. Severus would have expected no less from him. Regardless of the circumstances, Severus had killed the headmaster—he had known all along that he would have to answer for his crime one day, if he survived the war, and was prepared to do so. Still, Severus didn’t want to think about what awaited him at the other end of the tunnel. Instead, he thought about the man walking quietly behind him with a wand aimed at his back and wondered if he had felt it, too.

The instant Severus’ fangs had sunk into the soft flesh of Remus’ arm, it had been like crossing an imaginary, fine line between despair and ecstasy. That first drop of blood, salty and warm on his tongue, had been like an explosion that rippled through his body and obliterated sense and reason, leaving in its stead a nothingness that could only be filled with the taste, the smell, the essence of the other man. It was like nothing Severus had ever experienced, and nothing short of Remus’ ragged plea to stop would have been enough to tear him away from the man. Severus’ hunger had been sated, but the need had lingered and still did—the need to taste Remus one more time. The very idea was insulting, and Severus tried to dismiss it as a mere side-effect of the Vampirism. No doubt anyone else’s blood would have had the same effect on him, but it was the werewolf he couldn’t get out of his mind.

They emerged inside the castle, having taken one of the secret passages rather than the more direct route to the Whomping Willow. The rubble had yet to be cleared from the halls, and Severus was hardly surprised by the devastation he saw. The dead and gravely wounded had obviously been removed, but many people remained, sifting through the debris or feebly attempting to patch the walls. There was a stir when he and Remus entered. Severus held his head high and aimed his eyes straight ahead, prepared for the hostility he imagined would erupt.

He heard Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice. “By God, Snape! We thought you were dead.”

The voice was moving toward him at a quick pace, and many other footsteps echoed in the hall. “Harry! Harry, Snape is here. He’s alive,” someone yelled.

Severus saw Harry come around the corner, accompanied by Hermione Granger and the youngest Weasley boy. All three stared at him wide-eyed, their mouths slightly agape.

“We looked everywhere for you. Well, your body, I mean. Where did you go?” Harry asked.

Severus didn’t respond. He waited for Remus to explain. A tense moment passed, and when Remus didn’t answer either, Severus turned to look behind him. Remus was gone.

* * *

Three months passed. Remus wandered from place to place, sometimes hiding in the forests, other times losing himself in a city, always avoiding any contact with people he knew. He found a basement room for rent in a mostly Muggle town near Great Hangleton. He knew he would eventually have to find a more permanent residence and a job, but the prospect was daunting. Instead, he spent most of his time alone in bed, thinking, and his thoughts invariably turned to Severus. He had been unable to look the man in the face after he had confessed to killing Dumbledore. _I did_. That was all Severus had said. No apology, no explanation, no remorse in his voice.

Remus had wanted nothing more at that moment than to turn him over to the others and be rid of him, maybe because he hadn’t trusted himself not to do something he might later regret. Why, then, had he felt his heart sink when he saw Kingsley Shacklebolt, flanked by two Aurors, advance toward them once they’d reached the castle? Why had he felt like he was betraying a comrade, even when they had never truly been friends? It had taken some thinking for Remus to find the answer. He had stupidly thought that if he could help Severus, make up for their school years when his friends had taunted and humiliated the young Severus while he stood by and did nothing although he had wanted to intervene, by showing him that life, even as a vampire, was worth living, then maybe, in time, Severus would show him some gratitude, maybe even offer his friendship in return. Severus’ confession had shattered that dream, leaving Remus with nothing worthy to do.

He should have at least stayed by Severus’ side, explained his condition to the others, tried to find out more about the circumstances behind Dumbledore’s death. But instead, he had fled because he couldn’t stand to watch Severus being shackled and hauled away. Remorse was a merciless companion.

There was a knock at the door, and Remus looked up from the bed. He hadn’t run into any acquaintances recently, and no one knew where he was.

“Who is it?” he asked.

“It’s me, Harry. I've got something for you, Remus. Let me in.”

Remus opened the door and saw Harry there, holding a package in his hands. Remus managed to force a smile to his lips. “Please come in,” he said. “How did you find me?” he asked Harry, closing the door and turning around to face him.

“I checked with the Ministry—werewolf registry.”

Of course, even if Remus didn’t want others to know where he was, he still had to notify the Ministry when he moved into a new neighbourhood or risk being tracked down and detained for noncompliance.

“It’s good to see you, Harry,” he mumbled and offered Harry a seat.

Harry shook his head. “I can’t stay long,” he said. “There’s a lot going on right now. I came because Snape asked me to give you this.”

Remus’ heart skipped a beat. He snatched the package from Harry’s hand and looked inside—it contained three green bottles.

“It’s your Wolfsbane. Snape said each bottle is premeasured and you should take one each night for the next three nights. He also said don’t forget and don’t muck it up because there isn’t anymore.”

Remus continued to stare at the bottles. “How—How is Severus?” he finally managed to ask.

“Narky as usual, I think even more now that he’s a vampire.”

“I mean, what happened at the trial? Is he—Aren’t they going to send him to Azkaban?”

Harry shook his head. “After I turned his memories over to the Ministry, they decided to grant him a pardon. He declared himself guilty and demanded to be locked up for his crime, but the Wizengamot wouldn’t listen. You should have been there, Remus. Snape was spitting mad. It took five Aurors to drag him from the room. They locked him up for the rest of the day, but let him go that night,” Harry concluded with a grin.

Remus couldn’t help but notice that Harry took a slightly perverse if innocuous pleasure in telling the story. Remus couldn’t blame him: a raging mad Severus had always been a sight to behold. But he needed to know more.

“Memories, you say?” he pressed on.

Remus listened while Harry explained how Severus had given him his memories while he lay on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, no doubt thinking he was about to die and wanting others to know the truth. Each of Harry’s words built a little bit more hope inside Remus. Severus wasn’t a murderer or a traitor, and he had sent Remus a gift—three bottles of Wolfsbane. Maybe there was a chance that Remus could reach him, after all.

“Where is he?” he asked when Harry had finished.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. No one had seen him since he was released from the Ministry until he showed up at my door last night. He didn’t say where he had been or where he was going.”

“And you didn’t ask?”

“I did, but he didn’t say. It didn’t sound like he was planning to come back. Do you need anything?”

Remus shook his head, clutching the bottles of Wolfsbane to his chest. Severus’ gift had been his way of saying thank you ... and goodbye. Remus had hoped for so much more.

“I’ll be fine,” Remus said to Harry. But he knew it was a lie—Remus wouldn’t be fine until he found Severus.


	4. Chapter 4

Remus took the Wolfsbane as Severus had instructed, but it wasn’t enough. As the night of the full moon drew closer, he needed more … He needed Severus. He had spent hours researching and found no magical explanation for the way he felt. He only knew he was tired of being alone and wanted Severus in his life, more so now that he knew that Severus was not a traitor. He grew restless. During the day he paced his room, wondering where the other could be. He contacted the Ministry, but they wouldn’t tell him anything about Severus. At night he took to the streets, hoping in vain to run into him or find someone who knew Severus’ whereabouts. He went to see Harry, but the boy had no news about Severus. Harry suggested the house at Spinner’s End, but when Remus visited, it was obvious no one had been there for months.

The last morning before the full moon, Remus returned to his room just before dawn. He removed his robes, lay on the bed and closed his eyes, but was too exhausted to sleep. He kept seeing Severus in the Shrieking Shack, his head lowering toward Remus’ arm. He felt the hair brush against his skin, felt that jolt of pleasure-pain course through his limbs and settle in his loins. Remus realized he had grown hard. He reached down and wrapped his hand firmly around his cock. He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined what happened next:

_“Stop,” Remus managed to say._

_He felt Severus’ fangs withdraw, like steel from a wound. He was already hard. Gasping. A cool tongue laved the wound and travelled up his arm until it reached his mouth. Severus' tongue tasted saltish, and Remus realized it was human blood, his own blood, he tasted. The wand clattered on the floor, and Remus wrapped an arm around Severus’ neck, drawing him closer, drinking from his mouth. A sharp incisor scraped along his lower lip, and Severus caught the soft flesh into his mouth and suckled. Pain and pleasure mingled, and a soft moan escaped Remus’ lips. He tilted his hips and made contact with Severus’ groin—hard flesh against hard flesh. The fabric of their robes was infuriating, and Remus ground against Severus, needing to get closer, seeking contact. He needed …_

Remus groaned, seed spurted from the tip of his cock and landed on his hand and belly, warm and wet. Remus rolled onto his stomach, buried his face into the pillow and fell asleep.

He awoke early in the afternoon. The full moon was only hours away. He looked out of the tiny window that faced the street. The feet of Muggles hurried past the dusty glass. A familiar feeling formed in Remus’ chest—loneliness. The feeling that he didn’t belong had haunted Remus all his life. There was no room in the Muggle world for creatures like him outside of horror stories and fairy tales. He shuffled to the small cupboard above the sink and retrieved the last bottle of Wolfsbane. He drank it in one gulp, wincing at the taste. The potion would insure that he didn’t wake in the morning with his skin torn to shreds, but Remus couldn’t make any guarantees about the furniture in the room, and there were the noises that if others heard would be hard to explain. He tidied up the room, packed a small bag, took a shower and donned his robes. With a swipe of his wand, he Disapparated and Apparated just outside Hogwarts’ grounds. He scurried across the deserted lawn and ducked beneath the Whomping Willow.

The Shrieking Shack was just as he had left it three months earlier. Dark. Quiet. Empty. Remus could have chosen any room to spend the night, but he found his steps following the stairs to the tiny bedroom on the uppermost floor. The afternoon sun still shone outside, but the bedroom was shrouded in darkness except for the light of Remus’ wand. He retrieved a lamp from his bag and set it on the nightstand, deposited his wand in the drawer, turned around and collided with a black, solid shape. Remus jumped back, startled.

“Severus!” The vampire was standing only a couple of feet away, staring at him. “What—What are you doing here?” Remus’ heart fluttered and heat suffused his skin.

Severus didn’t answer. His eyes only shifted nervously around the room, and a crazy idea occurred to Remus.

“You knew. You knew I would be here tonight,” he whispered.

Severus snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. How would I have knowledge of such a thing? I came here because I needed a place to spend the day, away from others.”

“But tonight is the full moon, you should have known …” Remus argued.

“So? You didn’t come here the last two months.”

Remus smiled. Had Severus been waiting for him, hoping he would come?

“Severus, you don’t have to—” Remus took a step toward Severus and touched his arm.

“Don’t touch me,” Severus yelled.

Remus noticed for the first time the empty jars lined up neatly on the floor by the wall, the books stacked by the side of the bed and the black robe, same as the one Severus wore, hanging from a nail on the door of the armoire. Severus wasn’t here looking for him; he had been living at the shack for a while.

“This is your home, now,” Remus said. “I should—”

“Stay,” Severus said. “The sun will be down in an hour, and I can leave then.”

Something about the idea made Remus uncomfortable. Severus was hiding from others for a reason. Maybe he still didn’t trust himself around humans, and if Severus didn’t trust himself, Remus couldn’t trust him wandering the streets alone at night.

“There’s no reason for either one of us to leave,” he said. “I’ll stay downstairs and be gone in the morning.”

When Severus didn’t argue, Remus left the room. He found a clear spot on the ground floor and tried to settle to wait for the change, but he couldn’t remain still. He paced, thinking of Severus upstairs, only a few meters away. His cold reception had put a damper on Remus’ illusions. Still, Remus thought he should have said something besides, ” _What are you doing here_?” At least he should have apologized, but he had been taken by surprise. He still had a few minutes, perhaps he should go back … No, the sun was setting, and if Severus became angry or scared, he would leave. Now that he knew where he could find Severus, best to leave things until after … The sun set, and the first ray of silvery moonlight appeared through the narrow gaps in the boarded windows of the shack. Remus was out of time, and his decision was made for him.

* * *

Upstairs, Severus paced inside the tight confines of the room. Nearly three months of nearly complete isolation had served to impart control over the animalistic urges that sometimes surfaced around humans, but had done nothing to assuage his desire for the werewolf. His dreams during the day were plagued with images of death, war and destruction, but also filled with visions of Remus, naked and pliant in his bed. When the sun set, he would awaken filled with a hunger that twisted his gut and roared inside him. The bland and tepid pig’s blood he drank would sate his physical hunger, but not the yearning that consumed his very being. Only the memory of that fleeting moment when he had tasted Remus’ blood did that. During the day he would lie in bed, close his eyes and imagine he heard Remus’ voice:

_“Stop,” Remus pleaded._

_Severus tore his fangs away from Remus’ arm but didn’t stop. His tongue laved the skin around the tender wound and jaunted over valleys of flesh and hills of sinew to dip into the cleft at the base of Remus’ neck. A tooth scraped the skin there. Remus gasped, and a red pearl rose to the surface. The taste of that single drop of blood sent a jolt of pleasure to Severus’ loins._

_Remus was naked because that’s how Severus wanted him to be. His swollen cock jutted from a nest of curls at his loins, its scent musky and rich. Severus licked his lips. He sucked the tumescent flesh into his mouth and ran his tongue over its ridges and the moist head. A groan escaped Remus’ lips, and Severus tasted the warm flood of his seed._

His thoughts had roamed, and Severus’ felt the familiar hunger start to fill him. He tried to push aside the thoughts of the werewolf downstairs, but it was hard when he was so close—Severus could hear him, smell him, almost taste him on his tongue. The sun had set, and something like a primal howl filled the shack. After, there was only silence broken by the intermittent sound of wooden planks creaking under the weight of what Severus assumed was now the wolf. The smell Severus remembered—that warm, wild, intoxicating scent—was even more pungent, and this time Severus knew that it wasn’t just Remus’ blood he smelled, but the werewolf himself. Even in human form, Remus retained some of the wildness of the wolf, and it was that wildness, that hint of Darkness and danger that now drew him to Remus. The realization was both exciting and repulsive to Severus.

The pounding sound inside him started again, that roaring cadence he had heard the last time he had been in the same room with Remus, and Severus realized this time that what he heard was the sound of Remus’ beating heart. The need he had felt before returned, not as overwhelming now that he recognized what it was, but not less urgent. Drawn by the sound and smell of the werewolf, Severus opened the door.

_I won’t get too close_ , he told himself, _just close enough so I can see him. He won’t even know I’m there_.

He followed the little hallway and started down the stairs. The shack was dark except for the silvery glow of the moon that filtered through the crevices in the windows and walls, but Severus had no trouble finding his way. He could see every line and shape in the rooms, including the wolf in the room below.

The wolf was circling the room, scenting the air. Severus reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped. Remus stopped pacing, and his head suddenly jerked in Severus’ direction, his eyes yellow, fangs glistening. The nearness of the werewolf should have terrified Severus, but it didn’t. Instinct battled with desire inside him, and Severus knew he had gone too far to turn back now.

Severus retrieved the wand from the sleeve of his robes just in case, more out of habit since magic, he had discovered, didn’t work the same for a vampire. He had been lucky to be able to successfully brew the Wolfsbane, and that was only after two months of trying. Speed and force were the true strengths of a vampire, but Severus didn’t fancy the thought of fighting a werewolf with nothing but bare hands and fangs. If Remus wanted a fight, Severus could give him that and more, but it was not what Severus wanted.

The werewolf took a step toward him, and Severus started to move. When Remus growled, Severus stopped.

Need grew inside him. He reached a pale hand towards Remus, but the werewolf bared his teeth. Severus sheathed his wand and remained immobile as the werewolf approached him. Remus circled around him once and came to a stop directly in front of him. It was instinct, nothing more, a manifestation of the curse that flowed through his veins that was responsible for this insane need to be close to the wolf, Severus told himself. The wolf reared onto his hind legs and launched at him. Severus caught the weight of the werewolf and stumbled back against the wall. He was pinned—trapped—but, surprisingly, not afraid. He looked straight into the werewolf’s eyes and saw no hostility there, but no compromise, either. It was a staring match, and Severus understood that if he was going to get what he needed from Remus, it would be only on the werewolf’s terms. A slight nod of Severus’ head and Remus retreated, but he didn’t go far. Severus slid down the wall and settled on the floor, and Remus settled nearby, watching him. It didn’t matter to Severus that he had given in to this weakness he felt to be near Remus. No one was there to see, and the werewolf most likely wouldn’t remember it in the morning.

They spent the night like this: two dark creatures drawn together by fate, loneliness and need.

* * *

The room was dark when Remus awoke. He was surprised to feel the softness of a mattress beneath him and the warmth of a blanket over his body. He was a bit sore and his thoughts somewhat foggy, but felt mostly well thanks to the Wolfsbane.

Wolfsbane. Remus remembered Severus had been at the shack the previous night and bolted upright on the bed.

“Finally.” Severus’ voice came from somewhere in the room, but Remus couldn’t see him.

“Where’s my wand?” he asked.

“In the drawer of the nightstand, where you left it,” Severus said.

Remus’ hands fumbled in the darkness until he felt the wand. He whispered a Lumos, light filled the room and he saw Severus sitting on a chair in the corner. Severus stood, casually walked to the night stand and lit the lamp there.

“You could have done that to begin with,” Remus said.

“Yes, I could have, but I don’t need the light—you do.”

By the light of the lamp, Remus noticed for the first time the changers in Severus’ appearance. There was a paleness and gauntness about him that went beyond that of a human who had spent too much time hiding in dungeons. The circles beneath his eyes had a purplish cast to them that Remus knew was not caused by lack of sleep. But Severus’ robes were impeccable and his hair, although fine and limp, appeared clean. Despite his appearance, Severus didn’t seem any worse for wear. At that moment, Remus remembered something else: Severus had been downstairs with him the previous night. He had come to him willingly and spent the night with him. Remus also remembered how Severus had reacted to the wolf’s instinctive dominance; he had accepted it with a compliant nod of his head. It was a pact to which Remus fully intended to hold Severus.

“What is it like?” he asked.

Severus turned his head sharply to look at him. “What is what like?” he asked.

“To be a vampire,” Remus said simply.

“What kind of ridiculous question is that? It’s a curse!”

Remus left the bed, the blanket wrapped securely around his waist.

“You must admit it has its advantages,” Remus glanced at the lamp, “like being able to see in the dark.”

“My magic is useless,” Severus protested.

Remus took a step toward Severus. “It might not be what you’re used to, but it’s not gone—you still managed to brew one wicked batch of Wolfsbane.”

Severus averted his eyes. “I suppose.”

“And I’m sure you’ve noticed a certain enhanced strength and … stamina.” Remus let the last word trail, making the implication obvious, but not too obvious. He was working on a hunch. Something indefinable he had sensed about Severus the previous night. Remus advanced until he stood only inches in front of Severus. He noticed that the other man didn’t back away.

“What’s your point, wolf?” Severus spat, but his tone lacked conviction.

Remus leaned closer to Severus and whispered into his ear, “I remember.”

The revelation must have startled Severus because he attempted to take a step back, but Remus stopped him by wrapping a hand firmly around his arm.

“It’s okay. I feel it, too: the restlessness, the loneliness, the void inside you that demands to be filled. Give in to it, Severus.”

Remus was trembling. Severus remained quiet, and Remus feared he had revealed too much, but it was too late to turn back now. Remus was hard—Severus’ nearness had done that to him. He didn’t want to go back.

“Let me fill you,” he whispered.

He felt the moment Severus acquiesced—the tension left his arm, and he lowered his head.

“I need …” Severus whispered.

“Shhh,” Remus answered. “I know what you need.”

He guided Severus to the bed. A gentle tug of the fabric was all it took on Remus’ part for Severus to remove his robes, and Remus kissed him like he had in his fantasy. There was no taste of blood on Severus’ mouth—that would come later, Remus knew—but there was an eagerness and wildness in Severus’ response that was all Remus needed for now. Remus could feel Severus' restlessness beneath him as he explored his smooth, pale flesh with fingers and mouth. When he reached the hard cock, he swiped his tongue over the tip and was rewarded with a low growl. Now was not the time for gentle caresses and murmured endearments—their need was too great. Remus parted Severus’ legs, settled between them and looked up into his eyes. The rim of red around the irises and the hint of fangs between Severus’ parted lips provided the encouragement Remus needed. He reached low between Severus’ parted thighs, found his entrance and pushed one finger inside. A second finger quickly followed. Severus squirmed and pushed against Remus’ hand.

Remus smiled. “Eager little bitch, aren’t you?” He half expected Severus to pounce from the bed and knock him on his arse. When he didn’t, Remus withdrew his fingers, reached behind Severus’ thighs and covered him with his body.

“You’re awfully quiet, Severus. What’s the matter?” he breathed close to the other’s throat.

“I need …” Severus said, and he swallowed. “Anything you want, just—Please let me.”

“In time,” Remus assured him.

Remus pushed hard into him and nearly lost control when he felt the ring of muscle tighten around his cock. He withdrew and pushed hard again, this time burying himself to the hilt inside the pliant body beneath him. He fucked Severus hard, reaching for that elusive jolt of pain-pleasure he remembered. He was close, so close, and it still wasn’t enough. He tilted his head to the side, baring his neck and shoulder.

“Do it. Now!”

He felt Severus’ arms wrap around him and the needle-like incisors break the skin at the base of his neck. The need that had been building inside him exploded. Remus’ last hint of consciousness was being cognisant of releasing his seed. When awareness returned, he was lying limply on the bed, next to Severus.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

When he received no answer, he turned his head to find Severus staring down at him with an arched brow.

“I should be the one asking that question,” Severus said.

“I’m fine,” Remus answered. Sore and tired, but more than fine.

“I suppose you expect some gratitude from me, now.”

“I’ll settle for you not leaving.”

Severus scoffed and flopped down on the bed. “Where would I go? You said it yourself, I’m dangerous now.”

Remus had an idea. He wasn’t sure Severus would agree to it, but it was worth a try.

* * *

_One Year Later  
Black Forest, Germany_

The small, rustic building sat among a row of quaint gift shops and fine boutiques. It had taken some convincing on Remus’ part, but Severus had finally agreed to remain with Remus and give the region a try. He had heard that the resort atmosphere and artsy population of the area lent itself to tolerance. In Black Forest, werewolves and vampires mingled with nobility, working artists and writers. Remus had always wanted to visit, but had never had the means. They had purchased the store with Severus’ savings from his time teaching at Hogwarts, from an old vampire who had decided to travel abroad after many years of living in Black Forest. It had come complete with a forest cottage and an underground tunnel that connected the two.

The door opened, and an old witch wearing a pointed green hat decorated with purple feathers stepped out onto the street, her voluptuous green-and-purple robes swaying in the afternoon breeze.

“Have a good evening, Madam Ruska,” Remus called from the door as he prepared to close for the night.

“You too, Mr. Lupin. Closing early today?”

Remus nodded and pointed to the sign above the door. It read:

**FULL MOON APOTHECARY  
** FOR ALL YOUR POTION AND POTION INGREDIENT NEEDS  
CONFIDENTIAL CONSULTATIONS AND SPECIAL ORDERS AVAILABLE UPON REQUEST 

And directly below in smaller letters: **OPEN EVERY NIGHT OF THE WEEK EXCEPT THOSE WITH A FULL MOON**.

“Ah. Of course,” Madam Ruska said. “Well, have a good one, and give my kind regards to your friend.”

“Will do,” Remus said before he closed and locked the door.

He shut off the lights and walked through a narrow doorway into a back room. The room had no windows and was illuminated by a single torch perched high on the wall, but Remus had no trouble finding the goblet filled with Wolfsbane at the end of a long table. It was where Severus always put it for him. He drank it in one swallow and winced at the taste.

“Was that Madam Ruska I heard?” Severus asked from the back of the room.

“It was. She said to give you her regards.”

Severus snorted. “Regards, indeed. She would drive a stake through my heart if she thought it meant she could get her hands on you.”

Remus chuckled. It wasn’t the first time the two of them had discussed Madam Ruska and her overt interest in werewolves.

“She’s a writer, Severus. She told me she’s researching a new story she’s working on.”

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “By fondling your arse?”

Remus shrugged. “It only happened once. She writes erotica. Maybe she just needed to know what it feels like to touch an actual werewolf.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, and there was a hint of a smile on his face. “In that case, she should have asked me.”

Remus sauntered over to Severus and leaned in to kiss the other’s neck. He knew the effect his nearness had on his partner, particularly this close to the full moon.

“You’re right. Perhaps she should have talked to you. Lately she’s been asking about vampires, too,” Remus said.

He pulled back and gave Severus a mischievous grin. It took a moment for the implication to sink in, and when it did, Remus almost laughed at the look of dismay on Severus’ face.

“You don’t think she’s writing about us, do you? I can only imagine the kind of preposterous perversions she will conjure!”

Remus cupped his lover’s hardening cock over his robes. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I don’t think she could even come close to the truth,” Remus said with a wink.

“Let’s go home,” Severus said abruptly.

Remus wrapped a scarf around his neck and extinguished the torch. Severus held the trap door in the floor open for him.

Night had fallen by the time they reached the cottage. Black curtains covered every window, and Remus and Severus made their way to their bedroom, where they disrobed. Severus reached up to open the curtain and allow the light of the full moon to fill the room, but before he did, he looked at Remus and said, “I need you.”

Rims of red were already forming around the black orbs of his eyes.

“I love you, too,” Remus groaned.

Severus threw the curtains open and moonlight flooded the room.

~The End~


End file.
